


Dean of La Mancha

by BirdBoneGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels are Dicks, F/M, M/M, Memory Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4887100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdBoneGirl/pseuds/BirdBoneGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern Day Setting</p><p>Behind the scenes: Zachariah in a fit of rage at the Winchesters erases their memories and places them into a nightmarish existence. So enraged that Dean tried to kill him he doesn't even want to teach them a lesson as he had in "it's a terrible life" no this is his last act of revenge as he limps away from Dean’s unsuccessful attack. (Plot is very Loosely based on Man of La Mancha--the play and movie)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Squire

Castiel looked down from heaven concern furrowing his brow. Zachariah placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, his snake like smile splitting his face. 

"You see Castiel,” he gestured to the scene he had created, “that's how you quell rebellion."

Cas narrowed his eyes, not looking at the officious angel "By taking away their free will?"

"They still have free will, I just...changed their situation a bit."

Castiel felt righteous anger rise in him from his gut all the way to the tips of his wings. 

"Don't overstep your bounds, Castiel," Zachariah warned.

"You won't get away with this," Cas hissed at him. 

"I've already gotten away with this." 

The angel blade materialized into Cas's hand and he turned in one fluid motion to impale the Angel behind him. Zachariah was prepared for  
the attack and stepped back out of range easily. 

"You wish to defy me too?" His own blade dropped from his sleeve and he parried the next attack from the warrior angel. "Do you forget who  
I work for?"

"I thought we all worked for God."

This made Zachariah laugh, "You were always a troublesome nuisance, when will you learn?" 

Suddenly a host of black suited Angels appeared around them and Cas felt himself grabbed from every angle, his angel blade was wrestled  
from his hands. Zachariah took a step forward and Cas braced himself for the end, his mind desperately grasping for a way out of this situation. It was hopeless. He stopped struggling.

But just as Zach approached he sheathed his blade and smirking held out a hand to his head. 

"You want to help them so much? Why don't you join them?" 

White light erupted in Castiel's vision and everything faded away. 

 

\---

He blinked. Bright light blinded him, so he raised a hand to shade his eyes. He was laying on the side of a dirt road the sun beaming down  
unhindered by clouds, baking the land below. 

He looked around seeing that actually he sat at a crossroads, one of the roads sported a rickety line of ancient telephone poles, heat  
waves and dust hindered his long range vision. 

Where the hell was he?

An errant hot breeze blew dust in his face. He closed his eyes and turned his head. Annoyed at everything, especially his inability  
to understand where he was or how he had gotten here. 

Dusting himself off he took stock of his situation. He was at a crossroads in the desert it was around midday, the sun being just past it’s zenith. He was wearing a suit with a blue tie and beige trench coat. He was all alone and there was no footsteps or fresh tire tracks. If he didn't know better it looked like he had been dropped out of the sky. 

He was being ridiculous. 

He looked up all four of the roads in consternation, no discernible difference, except...

Down the southern facing road the dust haze was rising. 

He waited.

Out of the heat waves, in a cloud of dust appeared a black, 1967 Chevy Impala. 

The man wasn't sure of who he was or where he had come from or anything really, but he knew this car. Not just the model and make but this particular vehicle. He was sure of it.

Maybe he was where he was supposed to be.

The Impala was moving at great speed. The land here was mostly flat and it took it awhile to come close. The man wasn't exactly sure what to do to get the drivers attention so he just stood there. Patient and sure. 

The car approached. Then sped on by.

Still he made no move and was unsurprised when suddenly the cars brakes were hit and the vehicle came to a hasty halt spraying even more dust and gravel into the air.

Now he moved walking calmly to meet his ride. 

The most gorgeous man he had ever seen was in the drivers seat. His carved face was freckled and sun burnt, stubble threatening to be a full blown beard, clothes covered in road dust. But he was beautiful.

The man leaned down into the open window and the two of them stared at each other. 

"Where are you headed, stranger?" The beautiful man asked.

The man didn't know and took a second to look back up the road one more time. "Wherever you are headed." He said, finally settling on a  
course of action. 

The man made a face of acceptance, "Alright, Sancho, get in."

Sancho. It was as good a name as any. "More misadventure, Don Quixote." He replied as he sat in the cushy leather seat and shut the heavy  
door. 

"Adventure too, old friend," The man grinned maniacally and stepped on the gas. The impala lept forward like a steed and began it's rapid progress across the wasteland once more. 


	2. An Encounter With Zachariah

"I don't suppose it's any use asking how you ended up way out here?" The knight errant asked, casual as you please. 

"If I knew I would tell you. I think I was waiting for you."

The man he was still mentally calling Don Quixote frowned. Then shrugged, his eyes going distant. "I guess that makes sense. As much as anything does these days."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just..." He trailed off, pursing his lips, adding under his breath probably thinking the man couldn't hear "if only I could remember."

Sancho, well seriously it was the only name he had for himself, shivered. They both had no memories. All he knew for certain was he was where he should be. 

They rode on in silence.

Over time hills appeared on the horizon and started to loom large in their vision. Dotted on the hill wind turbines moved lazily in the unseen breeze. 

"Do you have a destination?"

Don Quixote startled out of the focused state he was in at the sudden breach of silence. 

He glanced over at Sancho licking his lips uncertainly, eyeing him up and down for good measure. 

"I'm looking for someone," he said, hesitant. As if he was unsure why he was confiding anything. 

"Your Dulcinea?" Sancho asked, keeping up the facade they had created.

The man snorted looking ahead. "Not unless Dulcinea is a man," he frowned at this as he said it. "Not that he couldn't be but...not this man. He would be… more like a brother." 

"Who is he?"

"I don't know. I see him in my dreams, a giant with long hair and puppy dog eyes. His name is Sammy. That's all I know. I won't stop looking till I find him."

"How long have you been looking?"

He shook his head. "Forever."

\----

They saw the blinking lights a few miles before they got to the road block. Don Quixote didn't slow until they were almost right on top of them. 

Rickety orange and white striped wooden no entry barriers were erected across the road, a large groups of cop cars behind the barriers restricting anyone from passing. 

"I don't like this," Don Quixote grumbled. 

Sancho said nothing.

They stopped the impala inches from the barrier. 

Out of the closest cop car stepped a large man with a balding head, aviator sun glasses, polished badge and gun at his side all winking menacingly in the sun. 

He swaggered to the car, dragging a hand across the Impala's hood as he approached.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

"What can we do for you officer?" Don Quixote asked, all cheeky charm and smiles.

"Come on uncle, enough is enough. Everyone is worried about you." Sancho wondered how Dean could be this man's uncle as he was obviously twice his age. 

Don Quixote frowned, "am I supposed to know you?"

The man gave him a disgusted look, "I know you don't approve of my marrying your niece, but this is ridiculous, Dean." Mystery solved. 

Dean. His name was Dean. That seemed right. 

"I don't know you sir, you have me mistaken for someone else."

The man raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Seriously Dean, stop with all this nonsense. Jessica wants you home for the wedding."

"I don't know who you are and I don't have a niece, let us pass," Dean said no longer looking at the man but simply looking off into  
the hills ahead. 

"Dean-listen to reason."

"I'm not 'Dean'."

The officer rolled his eyes. "You're not?" He lifted his head to smirk over his shoulder at the other officers standing around their cars.  
"Then who are you?"

Dean grinned like a maniac and pulled the gear into reverse in one swift motion. "I'm Don Quixote de La Mancha!" He whooped as he stepped  
on the gas reversing at dangerous speeds then whipping the car around and heading east into the desert. 

Sancho looked back over his shoulder as the sirens blared behind them, lights flashing as they all tried to get around their barrier to follow in pursuit. 

Dean was still chuckling.

"Who was that?" Sancho asked. 

"The idiot who is marrying my niece."

"So you do have a niece?"

The man frowned, "so he keeps insisting."

"You've met him before then. Who is he?"

"They all call him Zachariah. I call him douche-bag."

Sancho smiled, "what are we going to do Dean?"

Dean took his eyes off the desert ahead to glare at him. "I am Don Quixote, Knight Errant, and we are heading to the hills to fight Giants." Sancho glance up at the hills where the Wind Turbines turned slowly in the breeze that didn't touch them on the plains. 

"I follow wherever you go, your Grace!" 

"Come Sancho, we ride!" 

\---

Zachariah and his cronies stopped chasing them fairly quickly, not wanting to ruin their vehicles on the terrain or just because they were lazy. Or because they thought Dean, Don Quixote, was insane for driving off further into the desert. Whatever the reason they found themselves alone once more.

Don Quixote kept going straight and before long they came upon an actual paved road that he turned onto without a word. Sancho noted the gas tank was getting dangerously low and so far they hadn't seen a station. This road didn't seem particularly ripe with such possibilities either, but at least the car wouldn't be dragged down by sand and tumble weeds any longer. 

The impala kicked into action as soon as her wheel hit the pavement and they sped down the highway as the sun set before them.


	3. They Might Be Giants

Lights disturbing the dark ahead warned them of approaching civilization. It was none too soon as the ancient car was on E. 

They might just make it. 

The man of the trench coat had now been studying his companion for a few hours and had come to several conclusions.

One, he was insane. He didn't say much but when he talked he usually went on a rant about things that just didn't quite make sense. He talked of monsters; vampires, werewolves and demons. He seemed to not know anything about his past but was operating purely on instinct. He didn't trust the douchey Zachariah, but had no way of refuting his claims. So he operated on his reading of the man as deceitful and avoided him at all costs. Sancho gathered he had been playing a game of cat and mouse for awhile with Don Quixote in role of Mouse.

Two, the man was smart. His instinct wasn't bad and he was probably doing the only thing that would keep him from that mans clutches, but he was aimless and lost. His only goal to find the lost man of his dreams.

Three, he was run down. He was more tired hungry and desperate than he would ever admit and his quest to find this Sammy had become an obsession beyond all reason. The more he talked about this person the more unreal and idolizing his descriptions became.

Four, Sancho Panza, whoever he really was, was completely, irrationally and helplessly in love with him. He wasn't sure he believed the mans words but he believed in the man and would follow him to the ends of the earth. He understood that he could not compete with the Dulcinea of his mind but he would stand by him and protect him from the Zachariah's of the world at all costs.

\---

They crested a low hill and saw a lonely truck stop with two gas stations (one for trucks, one for cars) the attached diner, was shut tight for the night. 

They pulled up, tires crunching in the dirt just as the car seemed to clunk to a stop, tank completely empty. Sancho frowned calculating the odds that they would find a gas station just as the tank ran out, but Don Quixote just grinned. "I guess God supports the righteous." He said, eyes a little wild. "See if they have any pie." He tossed Sancho a wad of cash which he caught deftly. 

Before he could reply, Don Quixote was gone. 

Sancho looked at the cash and walked into the convenience store. The sales clerk, a middle aged man with golden hair pulled back in a ponytail glanced at him as he entered then went back to watching what looked like porn on his monitor. 

Sancho Panza ignored him and went about his quest for food. 

He grabbed some pork rinds, potato chips, beer and beef jerky. He brought his stash to the counter. "Do you have any pie?"

The man swiveled around glaring at him. "That's what you want? Pie?"

"Yes, I want pie." 

The man glared at him some more then grinned. "Oh I see. Well, we're all out. You might have more luck at the Roadhouse, about ten  
miles up the road. They also have rooms where you could freshen up," he even pinched his nose to mime that he smelled. 

Sancho didn't think he smelled bad, but he was still covered in dirt from waking up on the side of the road. He narrowed his eyes. 

"Wow, you really don't have a sense of humor." The man said letting go of his nose in disgust. He glanced at the array of comestibles on the counter. "Twenty-two thirty nine." He quoted the price without scanning anything. 

He handed over the money as the man grudgingly bagged his items. 

"Good luck, Cas," his golden eyes flashing as he handed over the goods.

The man in the tan trench coat's eyes widened. "It's Sancho Panza." He retorted, glancing at the mans name tag. This made the man snort. 

"Suits you," he said wryly, as if he knew him.

"Thanks, Gabe."

He waggled his eyebrows at him. "Anytime, Bro." 

Sancho grabbed the bag for his outstretched hand and turned to leave. Halfway to the glass doors he turned back, but the man was gone. Obviously gone into the back room now that his only customers were done. He shook off the feeling of unease. 

"Where's the pie?" His wayward companion asked as he slid into the now fully gassed impala. 

"They didn't have any. The man advised we stop up ahead at the Roadhouse for such things. And a shower."

The man laughed. "Finally something going right for us. To the hills!"

\---

Sancho Panza, or whoever the hell he really was for at this moment his resolve to be Don Quixote's companion was wavering slightly, wondered  
what the hell had just happened. One minute they had been driving along peacefully, if at top speed, and the next they had found themselves plowing headlong into a wind turbine. 

The last thing he remembered was the insane driver of the car had changed course, he had asked why he was heading towards the wind turbine  
and the man had said with reckless abandon, "Why? Because they might be giants."

Sancho Panza, ever looking out for the insane Don Quixote had done the only thing he could wrestling the wheel from his grip and pushing the wheel away from himself just in time to not run straight into the turbine, just glancing the passenger side. The side mirror detached and Don Quixote let up on gas a bit letting them hit the next towering giant with enough deceleration not to kill them. If only just. 

Dean, he was certain that was his real name after all, slumped over the wheel unconscious, blood dripping from his forehead. Sancho (Cas? Gabe had called him) seemed fine, despite having taken the brunt of the impact. He looked at the carnage around him and without thinking about why placed a finger on Dean's forehead. The bleeding stopped instantly and he woke with a start. Cas wasn't sure what he had done, but he didn't care. Dean was alive. 

"Did we win?" He asked looking around in a daze.

"My lord-"

Sirens blared to life in the distance.

Dean tried to start the car but the starter made a noise of protest as the broken and bleeding engine refused to turn over. He could smell gasoline in the air. Sancho placed a hand over the Knights hand stopping him.

"You'll blow us up, your grace. Let them come."

He made to turn the key once more then slumped back into his seat. Defeated. 


	4. A Brotherly Serenade

Dean stood with an unreadable expression on his face as the tow truck exited the parking lot, his baby being dragged away. Cas stood at his side, silent, emanating calm. 

Finally the righteous knight steeled himself and turned to face him. "Let's see if they have pie." He seemed nonchalant and carefree. Cas, No. Sancho, he thought squaring his shoulders, followed the knight into the Roadhouse. 

The roadhouse was the epitome of a dive bar. Weathered wood slatted building and neon beer signs lighting the way the Roadhouse rising above the building in faded letters. The interior was dark and the door creaked on its hinges as they entered.

The smoke filled room was sparsely populated with the most desperate looking people all well into the drinks at this late hour. 

No one really bothered looking up as they entered.

The jukebox was playing classic rock, currently on Kansas "Carry on". Sancho eyed the bar where a young blonde and an older brunette waited on the patrons.

Don Quixote, however had eyes only for one thing. The giant long haired waiter currently busing tables in the corner. In fact half of the bar seemed to be ogling the tall long haired man. 

Sancho however was single minded and went up to the bar. The blond eyed him up and down her eyes going to the man he had left by the door.

"What can we get you?" She asked in a bored tone.

"We just crashed our ride. A room and beer would be appreciated. And pie of you have any," he let out in a rush.

The girl laughed. "Simple enough. Mother! These gents want a room."

"Got it!" The elder woman said rushing to the back room.

"Any preference?" She asked gesturing at the taps. Sancho shrugged.

She nodded plopping two bottles on the bar with the deft movements of one who had grow up bar tending. He gave her a smile and turned to take one to his companion. Don Quixote, however was not there. It took him a nanosecond to locate him, partially because he had barely moved and partially because all eyes were now on him. 

As he sang along to the music while creeping towards the bus boy. Sancho's eyes went wide in disbelief, clutching the cold bottles of beer to his chest.

"Once I rose above the noise and confusion, just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion..." he crooned, slightly off key. The giant dropped his bleached towel in confusion staring at the man. As he came forward the giant started to back away. 

"I set a course for winds of fortune-"

"Holy shit," the girl behind the bar swore. "What in the holy hell is he doing?" She asked him accusingly.

"I think our Don Quixote has found his Dulcinea," Sancho said helplessly. 

The girl gave him the oddest look imaginable. "Excuse me?" 

Sancho didn't answer as Don Quixote cornered the man and fell to one knee singing with all his terrible voice would give him "There'll be peace when you are done, lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no moooooorreeee!" Holding his hand in both of his own. The long song rose into the long epic finish. The man wrestled his hand away from the errant knight and slapped him full across the face. He grabbed up his bin of dirty dishes and stalked into the kitchen. 

The whole bar started to murmur as the song ended. Sancho rushed forward grabbing both beers in one hand so he could haul his delusional friend to his feet and get him the hell out of there.

He managed to get him out of the dining area amid the growing murmurs. The blond bartender met them halfway and hurried them to the back door that led to the inn's rooms.

"Get your drunk friend to bed will you? And if your smart you'll drink those and not let him have any."

"He hasn't been drinking," he told her, "but we were just in a car accident."

"Well then, watch him more closely before he gets himself killed," and she slammed the door behind them.

"It's him! It's my Sammy!" Don Quixote was babbling from the floor where he had deposited him.

Sancho Panza, stalwart protector and best friend of the errant knight Don Quixote smiled broadly. "Come master it's been a long day and we need to rest."

 

\---

 

Sancho couldn't sleep.

In fact he seemed not at all tired or hungry. His master was dead asleep, his long day driving and crashing finally catching up to him. Sancho had finished the beers one after the other and felt not at all different for it. 

Maybe he needed something stronger. Hoping that by now the bar had died down he crept down the rickety stairs.

The bar was all but empty. The blond was fiddling with the jukebox, a man with an impressive mullet was playing pool without an opponent and the Giant was wiping down the rims of the glasses as they came out of the sanitizer. They all ignored him until he approached the man at the bar. 

"What do you want?" the man said gruffly. 

"Are you Sammy?" Sancho asked, sure that he was right. 

His neutral expression turned murderous. "Name's Abel. What do you want."

"Whiskey. Can't sleep." 

He nodded, slamming a clean glass on the bar and filling it with the cheapest gut rot within arms reach. 

Sancho down it with one swig. Still nothing.

"Another." 

'Abel' eyed him suspiciously but poured him another. 

"So what's with your...friend?" He said friend as if he meant something else. 

"I don't know. I'm not sure if he's crazy or saner than the rest of us."

"I’ll tell you what I think," the man grumbled, muscles bulging in his tight t-shirt. 

"I trust him," Sancho said a tad defensively. 

Abel plopped another shot of whiskey in front of him. 

“Why’s that?”

Sancho tried to come up with an answer but merely shrugged. Unable to put in words how he felt. 

"Why do you follow him?"

Sancho thought about this for a moment. "I like him. I just...really like him."

The giant looked up to the ceiling in Don Quixote's direction. "But what do you get out of it?"

"Well..." Really all he'd gotten was a ride, but as he had no direction in which to go that hardly mattered. "I've gotten..."

"You've gotten nothing. Why do you do it?" The man was getting worked up now. 

Again he shrugged. "There's just something about him. He sees the truth in people. He has hope where there is none. I like him." 

Slowly the man nodded, his mind deep in thought. 

A woman entered the bar from the door to the rooms. She caught Abel's eye. Abel winced slightly and set down the glass he was polishing. "Need another?" He asked holding up the whiskey. Sancho nodded and let him pour another. He made it a double. 

Then he removed his apron and stepped out from behind the bar to follow the waiting woman. Sancho watched downing this drink like the others and thinking hard. 


	5. The Blacksmith

He never did sleep. Even after the entire fifth of whiskey. Sancho waited in an overstuffed armchair in the corner till morning. 

Several things were apparent to the squire. Something was odd about himself. He seemed to need not eat sleep or go to the restroom, he never  
seemed hot or cold and alcohol had no affect. He decided not to worry about it. These things were out of his control and he wasn't going to burden Don Quixote's already troubled mind with more troubles.

He could hear and know things he shouldn’t be able to hear or know. For instance he could hear the woman fucking Abel upstairs for quite a long time after he had crawled back to their room. And he also knew the woman had paid him for his services. 

Don Quixote slept soundly till the sun was well above the horizon then came awake with a start.

He was his feet I a second turning towards him, gun in hand and ready for a fight. 

Sancho raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Good morning, Master."

Don Quixote lowered his weapon and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Right. Sancho, my squire. Good Morning." He sat on the edge of the bed  
with a heavy sigh. 

"I think they have a breakfast next door at the cafe."

"What cafe?"

"The Lemon Tree. It was hard to see in the dark, but it had a breakfast menu posted by the door."

"When did you see that?" Sancho thought about telling him he saw just about everything, but settled on a white lie. "I got up early for a walk. They opened at 7:30."

"Do they have pie?"

\---

The door to the bar was locked tight, but the side door to outside was open and had a place for their door key for re-entry on the outside. 

It turned out the Lemon Tree did indeed have pie and that's all that Dean would order. And an Irish coffee.

"For breakfast?" Sancho asked.

Don Quixote laughed, "and what pray tell does your Mimosa have in it?"

"Alcohol seems to have no affect on me."

"Yeah alright, well me neither."

Just then the man with the mullet and the AC/DC t-shirt (sleeves cut off of course) plopped down in the seat next to them. 

"Welcome to our round table fair Knight, what is your name?" Don Quixote intoned loudly. 

The man looked startled, but extended a hand to grasp him by the forearm like ancient Romans.

"Sir Ash, my lord," he told them.

"Join us at our meal, you are welcome. This is my stalwart companion, Sancho Panza, my squire." He nodded in greeting. Sancho nodded back, wary, but getting a good vibe from the man none the less. 

"What can we do for you?" Sancho asked the man.

"Nothing much, just made an impression last night with our boy Abel, thought I'd get to know you strangers. Also I heard from Singer and your car will be out of commission for awhile. He didn't want you boys thinking you'd be out of here anytime soon." 

Don got a look of concern on his face at the mention of the car. "How long?"

"A couple weeks, there's a lot of body work and a couple parts he'll need to ship in. He says you a should come by the junkyard when you can."

"Singer you said?"

"Yeah, Singer's Auto and Salvage, Ask for Bobby."

"Thanks, sir knight." 

The man chuckled. "I like you two knuckle heads."

Don Quixote bowed his head in complete reverence of the man's words. Shaking his head Ash excused himself and left the diner just as breakfast arrived. 

They even brought two large slices of cherry pie. Don Quixote started in in his meaty breakfast eying the pie the whole time, leaving it for last but not wasting a scrap of its flaky crust or sweet cherry filling. 

"So it seems we are stuck here for awhile." Sancho finally said into the silence his pie eating had created. 

The knight frowned. "Where else would we go? Sammy is here! Besides we have no other quest to occupy, besides avoiding the treacherous Lord Zachariah."

The man’s delusions had deepened in the night it seemed. Alas, Sancho had made his bed, he had to lie in it. He was stuck. Besides friendless and without memory of anything before yesterday what else did he have to do?

"Then let us consult with the craftsman Singer and see how our noble steed fares." 

"Excellent idea my good man! Serving wench! Retrieve our bill, we wish to ride!"

The waitress rolled her eyes but came with the check taking their cash and returning with change in a hurry. 

Asking around they found out the junkyard was but a short walk down the alley. It seemed this Bobby fellow was married to Ellen who owned the Roadhouse with her daughter (the blond), Jo, from a previous marriage. 

It was all very cozy in this one horse town.

So they marched down the dusty alleyway, past a long rickety wooden fence till they got to the rusted out sign for Singer Auto where the Impala was supposedly being fixed at. 

Of course the place seemed completely deserted when they got there. 

A lazy dog lay in the yard, he opened an eye as they approached and closed it again as they walked by. Not so much as a grunt escaping his heavy frame. 

The sound of a hammer hitting metal rang through the air. They changed their trajectory accordingly and came to a rusting shed behind a tall pile of car frames. 

"Balls!" Came a voice from inside the structure. Exchanging a look they opened the door and went inside. Despite all outward appearances the garage itself seemed well kept. The Impala sat on risers while a man's legs stuck out from under her.

"Good blacksmith! How goes the shoeing or our steed?" Don Quixote intoned with a boisterous tone as they entered. 

The man slid out from under the car. "What in the world?" He mumbled as he took them in. His gaze jumped from one to the other. "You two the idgit's who wrecked this beauty?"

"Our steed performed admirably in try face of insurmountable odds!"

"You mean of running into two wind turbines like damned fools?"

"Giants my good man. You can never be too sure around Giants, it seemed the best course of action." Don Quixote told him, as if that answered his question. 

The man looked at Sancho in consternation as if to say, 'is this guy serious?' 

Sancho shrugged. Singer shook it off and moved on, throwing his flashlight and wrench into a basin set out on the floor. 

"Well I have my work cut out for me here. And I'm the only mechanic for a few hundred miles," he grumbled. 

"I cannot be a very good knight without my steed, good sir."

"You'll get her back, and if excellent shape, I know my craft. It will just take awhile. If you want the engine functional that will be at least two weeks. And if you want the body work as well it will be five." 

"Five weeks!"

"This is a classic car, Sir Knight." He bled sarcasm. "And like I said I don't have any help. Also there is the matter of cost."

"A good steed is priceless."

"Right. But she'll cost you a pretty penny. The engine damage alone isn't going to be cheap."

"Now my good man, we are not wealthy beyond limit, we are hardly sir Percival with the Grail. However I know my steed and if you give me the space to work in your shop I can repair her myself."

Bob singer raised an eyebrow at this. "Is that so?"

"What fee were you going to charge?"

"If I was being fair? 30k."

"Exactly. How much to rent out the space in your shop for a month?"

"100 bucks a day?"

"That we can do. Sancho, give the man what cash we have left for a down payment. I have work to do!"

And his knight rolled up his flannel sleeves and grabbed the nearest wrench to start working. 

"Sancho? Like Sancho Panza?" Bobby Singer asked him eyeing him up and down. "You look more like Constantine."

"Right now he is Don Quixote. Who else would I be?" Sancho explained. 

For whatever reason this made sense to both of them. Sancho handed over a hundred and fifty three dollars to the man. 

"I'll give you till Thursday morning for the next payment."

He nodded his agreement. 


	6. Encounters

Cas had no idea if he was the sort of man who prayed. Right now in the middle of the night while his mind was wide awake and everyone around him was asleep he found himself hoping he was that sort. In the dark he knew he wasn't Sancho Panza the stalwart companion. Knew that something was deeply wrong with his Don Quixote. Maybe there was something wrong with the whole world. All he knew for sure was that he had to follow this man wherever he led and keep him safe. He was just getting more and more worried that that wasn't possible. 

The rest of his second day as squire was mostly uneventful. Don Quixote had thrown himself headlong into the repairs (he turned out to be quite the mechanic). He had set himself up as tool gofer while Bobby had with growing respect for his crazy friends skills had started to assist with the repairs. 

Eventually come two in the afternoon Bobby called for a break and they all made their way back to the Roadhouse.

The bar wasn't even open yet, but Ellen and Jo were loading fridges and prepping appetizers for the evening crowd.

Ellen gave Bobby a quick peck. "You boys admitting defeat?"

"Just refueling before we head back, our Knight here is quite handy," Bobby slapped the younger man on his back. 

"Ah, I’m afraid I have not yet been knighted, good sir," Dean said a little glumly. 

"Why not?" Jo asked, surprised. 

"I have yet to accomplish a noble task worthy. I'm afraid the Giants won our last round." 

Everyone nodded in agreement thinking of the damaged Impala.

"Well, I can't knight you but I can make you some nachos," Ellen said, grinning. 

"A feast would be welcome, my good lady.” 

Ellen disappeared into the kitchen, Bobby on her heels. Jo set out a few beers on the counter. 

The front door opened, and Abel walked in, followed directly on his heels was a short woman with long black hair.

Jo stiffened at the sight, nearly dropping the beers in her hands. 

"Meg," she hissed. 

Abel spotted them at the bar and made similar startled stop. 

"What is he doing here?" He called over to Jo.

"His car is broken, he's staying here."

"Great," he said with a tight smile. "Come on Meg, it's in my room."

"Yeah, I'll bet it is," Jo grumble handing over the beers. 

"Competition?" Sancho asked.

Jo snorted. "Hardly. Don't get me wrong, Abe isn't nothing to look at, but he's like a brother I could never..." she shuddered unpleasantly.

"So what's your deal with this Meg?"

"Like I said, he's like my brother. I don't think she's good for him. It doesn't matter anyway. Her daddy owns this place, no getting away from her."

"You telling me this place isn't yours?"

"It was, until they moved to town. Been nothing but trouble since." 

"How long ago was that?"

Jo thought about this for a moment. "Seven...eight months ago? This used to just be a dive bar. We had locals and some loyal truckers...now it's a new crowd."

-—

The next two weeks fell into a routine. Everyday they would rise and head down to Bobby's shop and work on the car. Sancho became the manservant rushing from cafe and bar to deliver food and drinks and occasionally assist with tool getting and heavy lifting. The latter task he found unnaturally easy and had to keep himself from lifting the car with one hand even though he was able. He kept these things to himself not wanting to alarm the skittish man with a screw loose. 

He started to become a familiar face to Jo and Ellen and even Abel warmed up to him a bit. After all he wasn't the crazy one. 

His nights were filled with quiet contemplation and a lot of information gathering in the form of inadvertent eavesdropping on all the other residents of the hotel/bar/cafe complex.

He knew for certain now that Abel was the local gigolo and had also figured out that Meg was the one pimping him out. That relationship had another component he couldn't quite identify, whatever it was it was sordid and perhaps dangerous. He suspected drugs but he never could figure out what kind. 

Dean hadn't forgotten his fascination with Abel either. Every time their paths crossed he would bow low and call him flowery complementary names. Abel mostly thought he was being made fun of and rebuffed him. But he was very insistent. Meg even approached him once to try to get him to cough of some dough in exchange for a night with him and had almost caused a brawl. 

Dean had been so insulted he had sulked all the next day and hadn't gone to the garage to work on baby.

Still progress was made and with Bobby's help they had gotten Baby back in working order. Now they just had some body work to finish and they could get on the road again.

"So we'll be back on the road by the weekend?" Sancho asked that morning looking out the window on the bustling cafe courtyard below. 

"So we will, good squire." Dean was in good spirits today after the car had successfully started the night before.

"Where too now?"

"Adventure, Sancho. We must prove ourselves if we are to be knighted."

"And what deed are we to accomplish?"

"A quest shall appear, fear not." 

This particular morning as the marched down the stairs they ran right into Abel. Dean doffed his cap that he had borrowed from Bobby, like usual. 

"Can you not treat me like some maiden from a fairy tale?" 

“I just treat you with respect. Is that so out of your normal life that you don’t recognize it?”

“You realize that everyone now calls me the “Wayward Son”? I have you to thank for that.”

Don Quixote ignored him, “Sammy, our steed is finally mended and ready for the road. Are you sure you won’t join us?”

“You are unbelievable! You really think I would go anywhere with the two of you?”

“Why not? What’s keeping you here?”

“What? Why would I explain myself to a lunatic like you? Just let me pass, alright?”

Don Quixote stood his ground. “I heard you don’t know who you are or why you’re here.”

“Who told you that?”

“You deserve better than this place, you are destined for greatness by my side fighting evil.”

“You are insane!”

“No. Look. I may not know exactly who I am, or where I’m from, but I know why I’m here. I’m here to rescue you from this place and you and I have a job to do out there.” 

“What do you have to say about this Sancho?” Abel asked Cas unexpectedly.

“I follow my master where he goes.”

Abel looked disgusted but continued. “And do you truly ‘fight evil’?”

Cas hesitated. Before he found the words Abel was nodding. "You know what the real difference between you and me is? When I woke up with no memory I tried to find a purpose in the place I was in. Look at you, you're a mess. You wake up with no memory and you seek out a delusion of truth to fulfill some ideal that no one could possibly live up to. You're pathetic."

Cas watched helplessly, seeing something break inside of Dean. Sam, or whatever it was he called himself stood using all of his height advantage to intimidate.

Just as he was about to swoop in and rescue his companion, a steely look entered his green eyes. "What's so wrong with searching for something better? Dreaming the impossible dream? Fighting the impossible foe? It's better than succumbing to hopelessness. Drowning yourself in hedonism and sitting still. At least I tried." He huffed out a breath as if to keep back tears and tore his eyes from his self proclaimed brother. "Come Sancho, we ride at dawn."

Cas put his cloak of Sancho back over his personality and fell into step behind his master as they pushed past that man. 

They both ignored the grumble that arose behind them and fled out into the bar. 

“Please don’t make me ask,” Ellen said as she slid two beers in front of them. 

“Ask what?”

Ellen looked heavenward and then spat out “Why the long faces, boys?”

Dean picked up his beer and buried his face in it, so Cas answered. “We had a bit of an altercation in the hall with Abel.”

“You boys should really leave him alone. He doesn’t like you very much.”

“Look, that isn’t the problem,” Dean piped up. 

“Then what is the problem?” 

“The problem is we’re out of funds. We can’t hit the road without something in our pockets.” 

“I could help you out with that.” This voice from the blue turned out to be from Meg who sidled up out of nowhere with her perpetually smug grin. 

Ellen stepped back, at first looking ready to fight, but then back down. “I’ll be in the kitchen for a few minutes.” 

“We don’t need your help, Meg.” Cas started defensively. 

“And what kind of help do you think I’m offering?” Meg asked.

“We know what sort of work you offer, Meg,” Dean piped in, sucking down the final swallow of beer in his glass. 

“Well you’re pretty enough. But no. I was referring to something else.”

“Spit it out, Meg.”

“The boys are having a bit of a drag race this Saturday. I heard your ride was all better now. Place a few bets on her and you could make a mint. Not to mention a small prize bag for the winner.”

Dean and Cas exchanged a look.

“No need to answer me now. Race starts at 11.”

And she set down a little flier between them as she swept by and back out into the crowd. 

Sancho felt himself groan inwardly as he saw the bright mad look in Don Quixote’s eyes that always signaled trouble. 


	7. To Love Pure and Chaste?

Having nothing else to do for the rest of the day they spent the rest of the evening in the same spot. Abel studiously ignored them and refused to serve them anything for the entire evening. This did nothing for Dean's mood, and they trudged up to their room early.

"You don't have to keep watch over me." Dean said from the bed suddenly into the dark. 

"I-" Cas couldn't figure out what to say. He didn't sleep, so he watched the man. What else was he going to do? 

"Why don't you sleep? You really don't have to keep watch." He sat up looking as if he was now fully alert and ready to go.

"That isn't- I just don't sleep."

"You don't sleep? Everyone sleeps Sancho." He sat up now, swinging his legs off the bed. 

Cas shrugged. "Not me."

"So you mean to tell me you stay up and sit there watching me all night?" He rubbed his face with both hands. 

Cas just stared at him.

"Huh." Dean stood and walked over to him. "Why? I mean if you're up all night why stay here watching me? Why not go drink at the bar? Go for a walk?"

"I'm here to follow you. Just because you're sleeping doesn't change that."

"As long as you don't start following me into my dreams..."

Cas frowned, uncertain.

"Don't think about it Sancho," Dean slapped the back of the chair. 

Cas leaned forward, "Why? What do you dream about?"

Dean looked away, the light from the street lamp catching his perfectly green iris as he stared out the window.

"Before I met you it was always about Sammy. Sitting with him in the car, fighting monsters, laughing and having a beer by the side of a dirt road. Staring at the stars."

"And now?" Cas found himself on his feet standing next to the man. 

Dean closed his eyes, "Still those things." 

Cas stood perfectly still not daring to breathe, knowing he had more to say.

"And you..." Dean breathed out. 

He turned his head, stared into Cas's eyes and licked his lips. Cas leaned forward and kissed his bedraggled knight. Dean's eyes went wide, half his face shadowed. Cas lifted a hand to his shoulder to keep him from pulling away and deepened the kiss, closing his eyes.

Dean relaxed into the kiss, his perfect rosebud lips firm against his. His hand came up the arms of the sitting chair and up Cas's arms holding him tightly.  
Cas pushed himself forward kneeling in front of his broken knight. They knelt knee to knee lips moving smoothly in a rhythm of urgency and need. Cas pushed his hand up under Dean’s army green t-shirt, sliding his hands up his belly and ribcage. Dean gasped at the touch and shivered as they pulled his shirt over his head. He then set to removing Cas’s clothes, removing trench and suit jacket in one forceful motion that sent Cas sprawling back into the overstuffed armchair. Dean leaned into his bent over body, their cocks coming together and revealing just how turned on they both were. 

Dean grabbed him by his tie pulling him close and bending to nibble at his ear. Cas gasped at the sensation, feeling that perhaps this was the first time he had ever felt such a sensation. As far as he knew with his limited memory it was. His hands roved over his muscular chest and around to his sides. He liked the feel of the softer flesh under his hands and he gripped him there, grinding his hips against his. 

Dean let out a soft groan returning the pressure. Then he pulled back, sliding his hands to his pants and unzipping them. The release of pressure was amazing. Cas lifted his hips to help Dean remove his pants. Before Cas knew what he was doing, Dean leaned over him and took his cock up in his mouth.  
The warm wet sweetness of it made Cas cry out and he gripped the arms of the chair as he thrust up into his hot mouth. Dean moved over him easily, tongue and teeth and lips finding every sweet spot. Cas dissolved into a sweaty mess beneath his ministrations until he was practically gasping from pleasure. Dean pulled off of him slowly, looking up at him with reverence. 

Cas didn’t hesitate, pushing out of the chair and lifting his knight up onto the bed in one fluid motion. He had the man’s pants off in barely a moment, his hands smoothing over his cock. He licked his lips in anticipation, then bent to lick at the head. Dean’s hands came down on his head pressing him down the shaft. Cas took him up easily. The man tasted of soap and skin and slight taste of salt. 

He had to loosen his throat to accommodate his size but managed to suck him all the way down. Dean moaned. Cas moved his tongue around the head, and moved his head up and down. Dean’s hips began to thrust up and down and he tried to keep with the movements. Dean panted and moaned as he licked and sucked and bit him. He couldn’t get enough of him, but Dean grabbed him by the hair and pulled him off. 

“Wait..” He pleaded, looking wrecked. His hands moved lower and he heaved him up. Their lips came together stubble grating across stubble. Their wet members slid past one another and they ground them against each other, reckless and sloppy in their haste. 

They came that way, one then the other, hands clutching and lips sucking. 

As they lay tangled together Cas felt himself drifting away into unconsciousness. He let himself go. 


	8. Interlude

Cas woke with Dean staring down at him. “I thought you didn’t sleep.” A smile played along his lips. 

“I-I don’t.” Cas whispered. It was still night, he hadn’t been out for long. Dean lay on his side shirtless and perfect. 

Dean’s smile turned into a toothy grin. “My squire,” he said fondly. Then he lay back down, put an arm around him and fell promptly back to sleep. 

Cas lay there staring at his master with fondness. He never fell back to sleep, but he didn’t move from him lovers arms. 


	9. The Drag Race

“Are you sure this is wise, Sir?” Sancho asked.

“A contest of speed, young squire. It’s just the kind of activity we need to prove ourselves ready before we head off to triumph over evil," Don Quixote told him, slapping him on the shoulder. “Come let us enter the ring and throw down our gauntlet.”

Sighing, a put upon Sancho swung the black Impala door closed and followed his master.

Meg stood next to Abel, they looked ridiculous as he was almost twice her height. Still clear who was in charge. She was holding a little checked flag and laughing at her own jokes. Abel just looked impatient.

"See I told you they'd join us!" Meg said when she saw them, hitting Abel in the arm. "Welcome, boys. Care to enter the race? It's a fifty dollar entrance fee. Winner takes the pot."

"We're in."

"What name shall I register your ride under?"

"The Impossible Dream," Castiel quipped, in what he thought was under his breathe. 

Meg however laughed like a maniac and wrote it down. "Pull that Impossible Dream Impala into the fifth row. I assume Don Quixote is our driver?"

Dean nodded, puffing up with pride.

"Sancho!" Meg called after Cas as he turned to follow Dean. "And where do you think you're going?"

"To our ride."

"I don't think so."

"Is it not allowed?"

"No one takes a passenger."

"I follow where he goes, my lady."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Fine, what do I care."

Cas gave her a grave little bow and brushed past her. Before the race started though he had work to do. He found a knot of onlookers suruptitiously exchanging money by one or the burning barrels. 

He placed his bets and then walked through the crowd. 

"Want to do the honors of starting off the race?" Meg was asking someone, Cas turned and saw it was Abel, standing over her. 

Abel shrugged and took the little checked flag from her. Sancho fell back into character and joined Don Quixote at the Impala, sliding into the passenger seat. "Ready, Sancho?" He asked, his eyes glittering with madness. But also with affection. Cas felt himself melt before the gaze. Far on the horizon lights gleamed at the finish line. He felt a grin break across his face in anticipation.

"More Misadventure!" Sancho cried. 

Outside Abel held the checkered flag high, his long hair blowing in the breeze, as Meg yelled "on your mark, get set," engines revved, "GOooooo!" He brought the flag down from high above his head all the way to the ground. 

Tires spun madly kicking up sand and gravel as they all peeled out into the night. Cheers erupted from the crowd and Don Quixote and Sancho kicked into high gear into the dark landscape, a few faint lights there only goal. 


	10. The Fight

Sunlight hadn't even thought of touching the horizon by the time they loaded the Impala with their scant belongings. Their winnings from the drag race were safe in Cas' pocket and he wasn't letting it out of his sight. If they were to survive out on the road, alone, they would need it. 

They pulled out of town, slowly passing the Giants (wind turbines) and back to the dilapidated gas station where the golden eyed man had told them which way to go. 

It looked deserted at first, but lights bloomed on inside the store as they pulled up to a pump.

"Tell the man inside to fill her up, get us some water and something for breakfast."

Cas nodded and exited the car.

The sky was lightening to a pale purple. The little bell on the door tinkled as he pushed his way inside. 

"If it isn't Sancho!" Came the overly enthusiastic voice of Gabe.

"Hello, Gabriel."

"Don't tell me you remember me!?"

"From last time. Yes. Why would I forget?"

"Oh. Still under the spell huh? Oh well, Don Quixote find his Dulcinea yet?"

Cas frowned. Lights flashed in the window, followed by revving engines and shouts. Both men turned to the sound seeing that several  
cars had the little gas station surrounded. Dean stood on the lights, gas pump in one had the other raised high. 

“Oh no.”

“Friends of yours?”

“I knew that drag race was a bad idea.”

Gabe choked out a laugh. “You two sure know how to party.” 

Cas bolted for the door, Gabe only two steps behind him as he stepped out into the blaring headlights. Cars doors open and closed in rapid succession and men and woman stepped out into the parking lot looking menacing. 

Then out of the lights came Sam, but he looked wrong. His face was bruised and his hands were bound. Meg was a half step behind him pushing him forward roughly with her hands. He staggered forward, his hair flopping all over his face, then she gave a mean shove and he took a nose dive for the pavement. Dean dropped the gas pump and made a lunge towards the giant to brace his fall, catching him barely in time to keep his head from the concrete. In the process he ripped the knees out of his jeans in what must have been excruciating pain. 

“You can keep the whore Sir Knight. I won’t be needing him anymore."

“Away foul demon, he was never yours.” Dean called out, his voice tight with trying to hold back the pain. Sam was trying to struggle up, but he had fallen badly on his fore arms and was in more pain that Dean. 

“Oh look, the lovers reunited. I hope you live happily ever after.” Meg mocked. 

Dean looked down at Sam with concern, murmuring something to man and laying him down gently on the pavement. He then stood and pulled out a long wicked looking knife. Meg recoiled at the site. “Where did you get that?” She asked, fear in her eyes. 

“You know, turns out I had it all along in my trunk. Isn’t that strange?”

Dean took a step forward (well slightly to the left and forward so he could avoid Sam’s body), Meg took an involuntary step back. “Get him, you fools!” She cried. Meg’s minions surged forward like an angry mob. Cas not exactly sure what he was doing stepped forward holding out his hand. 

Light seemed to flood out of him, and everything went silent. The light got brighter and brighter until you could see nothing else, then it died away as quickly as it had come. 

Dean lowered his knife and stared at it. Sam was staring at it too. All around them lay the bodies of the demons. Smited. 

“Did you do that?” Sam asked, his hand already unbound as he climbed to his feet. Before Cas could open his mouth to correct the man, Gabriel had a hand on his shoulder. 

“Let him have his moment of triumph.” Gabe suggested. “It’s all he’s been searching for right?”

Cas stopped and nodded. 

“I don’t know.” Dean said surveying the damage, “but I think so.”

“They were really demons?” Sam asked the shorter man. 

“That I am sure of.”

“Was Meg…” Sam trailed off, searching the faces of the fallen. Meg wasn’t among the fallen. “She must have escaped.” 

“Damn.”

“What happened to you man? Why did they bring you to me?”

“After the race they ganged up on me, told Meg I had let you guys win. Faced with that lot Meg had no choice but to throw me to the dogs. Otherwise she would have been lynched herself.”

Dean nodded, “Are you alright?”

“Nothing that won’t heal. Are you?”

“Nothing that won’t heal,” Dean repeated, smirking. He sheathed his knife in the back of his jeans. 

“Now what?”

“Might I suggest we head back to the roadhouse, your grace?” Cas piped in. “We could tend to your scrapes and more importantly let Ellen know here troubles with that lot are over.”

“What about the bodies?”

Gabe stepped up, “Uh, tell you what I’ll erase the security tapes and get the hell out of here. Give the cops an anonymous call from the road. You crazy kids get yourself to the roadhouse and I’ll make sure that’s a good enough alibi. Okay?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Gabe smirked, “Just call me your guardian angel. Now seriously, get the hell out of here before anything else happens. The gas is on me by the way.”

Dean and Sam made no move to obey as the blond man scampered back inside the gas station. “You can trust him.” Cas implored. 

Dean relaxed, “If you say so Sancho.” 

They fueled up and Sam slipped into the passenger seat leaving Sancho to ride in the back. 

Dean slipped in the car and looked over at the man beside him. “Uh, Sancho usually rides shot gun.” He said hesitantly. Any ill thoughts Cas was having melted away. He spoke up anyway. “That’s alright Master, Sam can sit up front.”

“Why do you guys keep calling me Sam?”

“It’s your name.”

“But how do you know that?”

“Cause you’re my brother.”

Dean started the engine and the engine roared to life like a living beast. They pulled out of the gas station and out into the sunrise, heading back to the Roadhouse at top speed. 


	11. Knight of the Woeful Countanance

Ellen, Bobby and Jo were all at the bar, loading a new keg that had arrived with the morning deliveries. In came their ragtag crew and they all halted their activities to watch them. 

“I thought you boys were out of here.”

“What the hell happened to all of you?”

They all looked at each other a little sheepishly. Before they could protest that nothing had happened Ellen had them rounded up and sitting at the bar.

“What happened?”

Slowly Dean recounted the tale. He was a good with a tale, he told of the demons surrounding the gas station surrounding them with fire. How Meg had thrown Sam down after torturing him and how he had pulled his demon slaying sword from it’s sheath scaring the bitch back to hell and killing all her minions in one burst of righteous light. 

Bobby, Ellen and Jo, gaped at him as he finished the story.

“Okay, but what really happened?” Jo asked, looking annoyed.

“I know it sounds nuts, but that’s pretty much what happened,” Abel said. 

“You’ve lost your mind now too?” Jo asked Abel, astonished he was actually agreeing with the crazy man. 

“Well they surrounded us with their cars with all the headlights on, not fire, and it was more like a knife not a sword, but otherwise…yeah I saw it happen. Our Don Quixote is a hero. He saved my life,” he shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Thank you,” he added directly to Dean. 

“I guess we have to knight you then,” Bobby said gruffly. Everyone turned to look at him. “What? He said he couldn’t be knighted unless he did a heroic deed first. Well, now he’s done one. Let’s do this.”

—

They met in the middle of the junkyard that afternoon. Dean knelt down in the dirt in front of Bobby. Bobby held an ancient looking book in one hand and a pretty nice looking short sword in the other.

“Don Quixote de La Mancha, having proven yourself this day in terrible and glorious combat,” he struck a soft blow to one shoulder then lifted the blade up over Don Quixote’s other shoulder, “I hear-by dub thee, Knight.” And the blade landed on the other shoulder completing the ritual. 

“But your lordship?” Dean asked, looking up imploringly. 

“Uh, did I not do it right?” Bobby asked, looking around at the others for help.

“Well it is customary to grant the knight with a new name.”

“Oh, I see.” He looked down at his book and around at all of them. 

“Hail Knight of the Woeful Countenance!” Bobby suddenly shouted out. When no one joined him he glared. 

“Huzzah!” Jo gave a hesitant cheer. 

“Hail!” the other cried in ragged chorus. 

This seemed to mollify Don Quixote who rose to his feet triumphantly. “Forever at your service, Master Singer.” 

Bobby nodded, looking like he was perhaps blushing under his beard a bit. 


	12. Lord of Mirrors

By noon the news of the gas station attack was all over the local news. The police came through the Roadhouse to ask questions followed by a flood of journalists. They all plead innocent of any knowledge as they had all been here. But weren’t they all stunned, just stunned by the news. 

By afternoon the helicopters came in: state news had become national news. 

“I wish we had just gotten out of dodge while we could have. Now we’re trapped here,” Sam muttered at Dean. 

“Come on, lets go back to Bobby’s shop and fix the last of the dents. Then we can hit the road again,” Dean said. 

“Do you always have to be in charge?” Sam asked as they ducked out the kitchen door and up the alley towards the shop. 

“I am the only one with knight attached to his name, so I would say yes.”

“You do realize there is no monarchy in the US, right? That chivalry died hundreds of years ago and this is pretentious bullshit right?” Sam continued as they walked, Dean’s steps getting more and more strident. Cas wanted to intervene, but wasn’t sure what to say. “What is it that keeps you in this delusion?”

“A code of honor is still necessary in a world of demons.”  
Sam snapped his mouth shut. Now that he had seen demons with his own eyes he couldn’t find a response. 

A group of men stepped out of the entrance to Bobby’s junkyard. 

It was Zachariah and his gang. 

The three men stopped in their tracks. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here. The three stooges together at last.”

“What are you doing here Zach?” the knight asked.

“A little call came down the wire about a mass shooting a gas station, funny I should find my dear mad uncle not ten miles away fleeing the scene. How devastated Jess will be when I tell her of your attempt to escape justice and subsequent death. Killed by your own madness.” 

“What makes you think I will let that happen?”

“Because you will go mad. You already have done. You are fool and a coward.”

Dean stepped forward and Zach swaggered and smirked as he closed the distance. They stood toe to toe, Zach towering over Dean, his badge glinting in the sun. Then Zach lifted a hand and touched him lightly on the forehead. 

Dean’s whole body went still. Cas couldn’t see the expression on his face, but for some reason he could tell something was wrong. He glanced at Sam who also looked concerned. 

“You bastard!” Dean choked out, his fists bunching at his sides. 

Zach grinned. “I told you Dean, I own you. You cannot fight heaven. Do you understand that now?”

“I understand your a steaming pile of piss who I should have done a better job of killing.”

Zach’s grin turned patronizing. “That you should have. Still I think I’ve made my point. So are you ready to submit to Micheal or are you still going to be stubborn?”

Dean was shaking with rage. “I-” He looked ready to collapse. Cas was at his side in a blink. He wasn’t even sure he walked. It was more like he’d flown. He caught Dean before he hit the ground. He stared down at Dean’s face, it was pale under his freckles. He was limp in his arms and he glared up at Zach. Sam stood at his shoulder looking ready to fight. 

“What did you do to him?” Cas asked, stricken by Dean’s state. 

“Only opened his eyes to the truth, Castiel. I’ll help you out too.” He made it sound like a balm. He touched Cas’s forehead.

—

As everything became clear Cas’s angel blade manifested and he went to stab the arch angel. Unfortunately, holding Dean’s limp body hindered his movement and Zach stepped back out of range easily. 

Gabriel appeared beside them, blade at the ready for the fight but Zachariah and his cronies got away, the officious leader smirking at them wryly as he fled. Cas and Sam stood staring at each other for a long time before they could move or speak. 

Cas tried to heal Dean and wake him, but while his minor hurts disappeared he refused to wake up. “Let’s take him back to his room-” Cas started to say, picking Dean up like he weighed nothing. 

But when they turned back towards the roadhouse they saw that the road just kept going. Of course. The roadhouse burned down years ago. It also meant Jo, Ellen and Ash were actually dead. 

“Bobby’s.” Sam said.

Bobby came running outside looking wide eyed and bewildered. He looked even more concerned when he saw Cas carrying Dean. 

They all looked at each other, none sure what to say. Which disaster was the most important. They all seemed to come to the conclusion that Dean was the biggest concern and that there was nothing to say about the rest. 


	13. To Dream the Impossible Dream

“I didn’t even know Zach could do all that stuff. When he set us up in that office he just plopped us in without our real memories. This- bringing back people from the dead, resurrecting the roadhouse, changing the memories of you, Meg..” Sam clenched his hands together. 

“He had help this time. Micheal’s most trusted cronies. Maybe they had Micheal’s help. That would make the most sense. Gabriel I think was trying to help us. Even he couldn’t get all the way into the illusion Zach created,” Cas explained. 

“Great lot of help that is to us. Lucifer is still out there. This little romp just gave him a three week lead.” Bobby grumbled, taking a large sip of hunter’s helper. 

“Do you think he’ll wake up soon?” Sam asked. 

“I am not sure why he’s still asleep. I would like to wait a little longer before I try anything drastic,” Cas said. 

They all turned to the couch when they heard movement. Gabriel stood over Dean.

“Ahh isn’t he adorable asleep.” 

“Gabriel,” Castiel said flatly. 

“Nice to see you bro! Glad you made it out of that little trap intact. I wasn’t sure you were all going to make it there for a second.”

“If you call that intact,” Sam almost growled at him.

“Whoa there gigantor, I did what I could to help, don’t blame me for what those ass-hats did to you.”

“Can you help him?”

Gabe gave Dean a speculative look. “There’s nothing wrong with him. He just doesn’t want to face reality yet.”

“And why would that be?” Bobby asked, taking a heavy draught of beer. 

Gabe gave Castiel a significant look. “His plan to kill Zach failed, Jo and Ellen and Ash being brought back as puppets, Sam being whored out by Meg, Cas and him having sex two nights ago. Take your pick.”

Bobby spit out his large mouthful of beer covering Sam’s back. Sam hardly noticed as Gabe’s words sunk in. 

Cas stood perfectly still as if he could escape notice that way. 

“Cas?” 

Cas said nothing, not sure what to say.

“Cas!” Sam grabbed his shoulder.

Bobby started to chuckle. “Well they’ve always been kind of cute together.” 

Sam looked ready to punch someone, but like he couldn’t decide who. 

“Sam, please don’t punch my angel, it’s not his fault.”

They all turned to find Dean propped up on one elbow, looking at them all with deep reservation. “Beer?” He asked, hopefully. 

Bobby went to grab a cold one from the fridge while Sam knelt down by the couch. “Are you alright?”

Dean leaned away from his brother. “I’m fine.”

Sam let out a relieved sigh. Cas looked down at Dean nervously. Dean glanced at him and away not meeting his eyes. 

Gabe snorted. “You babies.”

Dean and Cas shot him a glare. 

“Oh just kiss and make up already.” 

Sam stood up, backing away from whatever might happen. 

Cas glanced over at Dean again and found his eyes were on his. He could tell Dean wanted to hide, but he seemed unable to look away. 

Sam meanwhile was grabbing Gabe by the arm and was manhandling the archangel out of the room. 

When they were gone the tension lessened a bit and it was just Dean and Cas. Don Quixote and Sancho. 

“Dean…” Cas said gruffly. 

“We were crazy Cas. It wasn’t-”

Cas knelt down and came to him. “Were we?”

Dean looked away, Cas could see a tear in his eye. Cas reached out to his stubble ridden face, pulling him back to him. Words were useless. He kissed him. 

Dean struggled for a moment then relaxed into it. 

“You are a brave and good man Dean Winchester. Even if idiots like Zach see you as mad. To hell with all of them.”

Dean stared at him openly, looking like he didn’t believe him. “To dream the impossible dream?”

“To fight the unbeatable foe.” Cas countered. 

The grinned at each other and kissed again.


End file.
